Eye of the Storm
by a.pens.name
Summary: The final battle is over and everyone is suffering from the consequences. But can Logan and the others manage to unite to fight a new wave of terror against mutants unlike any they've seen before? What if the threat is from one of their own? Post X3
1. Another Departure

'_I'm the only one who can stop it now. I know what I need to do.'_

Yeah, right. How could he have known what to do when he didn't even know who he _was_?

Swirling the amber liquid in his glass in little rings, he closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair sitting off to one side of his room. The blinds were closed, but somehow light was still trying to press its way in, seeping through every crack and space in the shades. The darkness was what Logan wanted then, though, he felt at home in it. As long as he didn't nod off, he didn't have to think about what had happened, what he'd done. Sure, he couldn't stay awake forever, but to hell if he wouldn't try.

Downing the rest of his glass, he set it on the arm of the chair and leaned his head back. Maybe he was acting stupid, cutting himself off from life. The others were grieving too, right? The only difference was that they hadn't just killed someone they'd loved. He had. He could remember ever second, every single last moment of what happened, and it seemed destined to haunt him.

He rubbed his eyes and leaned foreword again, running his hands over his face. He'd already spent a week like this, only spending enough time around the students to try to build some semblance of normalcy. Maybe someday he'd move on, get over it, but it didn't feel like it yet. Not that any hint of thoughts like these would be passed on to the others. If there was one thing Logan despised above all others, it was the thought of their _pity_. A pity he didn't want, didn't need, and didn't even think of accepting. The world was full of enough pity for itself, they didn't need to add on to it.

Suddenly, a knock on his door brought him back to his senses. Glancing up, Logan didn't even bother to move out of the chair. Maybe if he ignored it, whoever it was would get the hint and scram. Unfortunately, whoever it was seemed to have other plans, and knocked again, louder this time.

"Yeah?" Logan answered, still sitting, forehead resting on his hands and rubbing his temples slowly, methodically.

"It's Bobby. Can you open the door?" Answered the muffled voice from the other side quickly, with a tinge of concern that didn't go unnoticed by Logan. Torn between his duties as one of the caretakers of the students and his own, admittedly selfish, desire to be left the hell alone, he paused. He doubted Bobby was there to comfort him, a thought which, ironically, _was_ sort of comforting in its own way.

"Logan?"

"Alright, alright, hold on." Logan groaned, grabbing the cup and various bottles lying around the room and shoving them in the little shelf behind the chair. Standing, he pulled open the blinds a little more to let in some of the light, which poured in as soon as he pulled the string, "Come on in."

The door creaked open a little and Bobby inched in slightly, being careful not to come too far into the room. Shifting uncomfortably, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Logan stretched slightly as he waited for him to talk, but when he didn't speak up after a few seconds, he got sick of pretending to be patient. What was with him? If there was something so damn important to say he'd felt the need to track Logan down on his territory, he could have at least had the foresight to know what he was going to say. But there was some sort of air about Bobby; he could feel it, thick and almost tangible. It was guilt, or something much like it.

"Hey, kid, what's up?" He asked again, raising an eyebrow as he nodded to his chair in the corner and began to stack up some of the other glasses, "Need to sit down or something?"

Bobby shook his head quickly and glanced down at his feet, only reaffirming Logan's observation, "I didn't want to bother you. I tried to handle it myself and it didn't work, and Storm is impossible to find and I couldn't think of anything else to do."

Logan paused, now more apprehensive than irritated at being disturbed. Stopping, he turned around to face Bobby, looking him directly in the eye. His own problems could wait if something was really wrong. For even when he tried to ignore the problems around him, his instincts wouldn't consider it, especially when a member of the team was concerned.

"It's Rogue." Bobby went on as he met Logan's eyes, "She got the shot and now she's leaving. I thought you'd know what to do. She doesn't trust me any more. It's all my fault, I shouldn't have-"

But Logan had already stepped past him and headed down the hall and up the stairs.

-----

As Logan glanced into Rogue's room from her open doorway, he saw only how right Bobby had been. Sitting wide open on her small bed was her duffle bag, already more than half full of the things that had been scattered around her room an hour before. The sun was shining clear through her windows, illuminating the room in a soft, morning glow and then reflecting off of her in a way almost making her seem ethereal. Appropriate, he mused, as there were times she'd seemed otherworldly since he'd met her, such as in her uncanny ability to put up with him. That talent alone had initially earned her some begrudging respect from him, and eventually, friendship.

She hadn't noticed him yet, so he leaned against the entryway, arms crossed, watching her thoughtfully. There was just something about the way she was folding her clothes and pressing them in the suitcase that seemed settled. Not content, but certainly determined. With the last shirt from off her bed being folded neatly, she began to look up, finally noticing Logan. Taking a sharp breath, she almost dropped the t-shirt, but caught herself right in time.

"Logan! What're you doing here?" She asked, abnormally sprightly and surprised, shoving the shirt in the bag and stepping between it and him, almost as if she were hoping he hadn't noticed it yet. He and she both knew he had, but if the façade would make her a little more...normal, he was willing to put up with it.

"Did you think you could leave without saying goodbyes?" He said with his usual cocked smile, stopping himself right before he finished with his traditional 'kiddo'. Something about that just didn't sound right anymore. Maybe it was how mature she seemed just then, how calm and adult, or maybe how much she'd gone through. Regardless, she was definitely not the scared- but surprisingly bold- little thing that he picked up in Canada however long ago that was.

"Of course not." Rogue said, seeming to relax when she realized he knew. But the slump in her shoulders spoke of more than that and in a second, the coolness she'd seemed to exude before vanished, "I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to you guys. You're like...family." She finished, slightly lamely.

"I hope you mean that in a good way." Logan commented, still not moving. Glancing over his shoulder, he made sure there was very little space left in the doorway for her or her bag to pass through. There was a small silence between them, and then he spoke, his voice a touch more serious than before, "You don't have to leave."

Rogue laughed dryly, "Well I can't really stay, can I? I mean, I'm not exactly a 'gifted youngster' anymore." She deliberately turned back to her suitcase and began to slide things in with more intensity than before, "And I can't help out on the team without any powers, so there goes that. I don't fit."

"You still fit." Logan reassured her, suddenly a little bothered by how dead-set she was about going. He hadn't expected to get so much resistance, and now that he was...well, it was concerning. Not that he would let it bother him; he was still in control, just the way he liked things to be.

"Thanks, but you don't have to lie to me. I'm old enough to know better now." Rogue stated bluntly, and Logan couldn't help but agree, as much as he didn't want to.

"Where are you going?" He questioned, trying again. There had to be someway to dissuade her, he just hadn't found it yet, "Staying with your family?" He knew that answer was a definite no. Something in the back of his mind felt a little malicious about using that as manipulation, but he ignored it.

"No." She replied as she began to work the zipper on the duffle closed, "I think I'll head back up to Canada. There was this trip," She began to explain, more to reassure herself than him, "I always wanted to take when I was in high school, and I never finished it. I...I think that's what I'll do."

All Logan could remember when she mentioned Canada was that run in with the Beast, and then how the car had caught on fire and she'd gotten trapped inside while he'd had the crap beaten out of him. She'd almost died than. In fact, the only thing he could think of was all the danger he'd ever known. He'd already lost most of his team, he didn't want to let another get any farther from safety...from him than they had to. If she went off on her own, out to God knows where, and anything happened, he couldn't get there. His stomach felt sick at the thought, but he kept his cool, hard appearance. The truth was that he'd run out of reasons for her to stay. At least the reasons he could put words to, the ones he could express.

"Look, I've got to go now or I won't make the train." She finished, getting the zipper all the way closed. Pulling the bag off the bed, she stepped up right in front of Logan and met him directly in the eye.

"I'll miss you." She began quietly, and then added almost as a hurried afterthought, "But, I mean, I'll keep in touch..."

"You'd better." Logan said, harsher than he meant to.

After a moment of silence, Rogue dropped the handle of her bag and flung her arms around his neck, squeezing him solidly. He almost backed up out of habit, waiting for the searing pain of having his powers pulled away, but it didn't hurt, not even the slightest shiver. It was then he remembered the antidote and wished he _could_ feel the agonizing burning again, that everything would go back to normal. Putting his arms around her back, he felt almost completely lost. Yes, the great Wolverine, the beast among men, was being defeated by none other than his own human mind.

Finally, Rogue backed up and picked up the handle of her bag again, dragging it behind her down the hall. Turning at the steps she waved.

"Goodbye, Logan."

He didn't say anything, too stunned to even process what he was seeing with his own two eyes. It was impossible, she couldn't have just _left_. Not another one. Hadn't three been enough? How much more would he have to live through? His whole life he'd been alone, and then he'd come here, been formed into part of a team, and finally found some security that he wouldn't admit he needed. Now that it was all slipping away, it was like a smack of reality from out of the blue.

It was then he realized just how alone he truly was.


	2. Poker and a Plan

**Short A/N:** _Thanks to the people who reviewed my last chapter, that rocked as this is my first fic for this movie. And thanks for pointing out my spelling error, that helped a lot!_

"So, what're we going to do?"

"What'd you mean, 'what are we going to do'?" Logan inquired gruffly, pushing aside the bottles of pills and multivitamins that lined the shelf of the medical room, "And will you stop pacing until I can find the damn Advil?"

Bobby shot him back a relatively dirty look, and leaned against one of the metal counters, crossing his arms and staying silent, much to Logan's relief. His head was splitting now, thanks to the combination of stress and his little morning bender, and had only been growing worse with Bobby's constant talking since he'd returned from Rogue's room without success.

"You didn't answer my question." Bobby remarked, and stood to pace again just as Logan's hand finally reached the bottle of pain killer, "We need to do something. How can you not have a plan?"

"Hey, look, we don't need a plan. Rogue's old enough and smart enough to take care of herself." Logan assured him, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. The drumming of his pounding head was making it especially hard for him to keep his temper, even when, given his own way, he would have fully agreed with him. Dropping a couple of pills into his hand, he tossed them into his mouth and swallowed them dry as he put the bottle back up on the shelf. When he turned himself around to finally face him, he noticed just how tense he was, almost as if something bad had already happened to her. The odd thing was that Logan's gut feeling matched the nervous tension of the young man across from him.

"How can you not be worried?" Bobby pried, and then rubbed his forehead with one hand as he stopped and leaned on the counter again. When he spoke again after waiting for an answer from him with no luck, he was more resigned and quiet, "I just... I wish I would have tried harder to make her feel... I don't even know, appreciated, I guess."

Thrown off by his sudden mood shift, Logan tried to interrupt, "Kid, it's not your-"

"Don't tell me what is and isn't my fault!" He snapped, suddenly, yelling. Logan almost took a step backwards, but held his ground and prepared himself for more yelling. Nothing came. Bobby leaned back again on the counter and hung his head as though he were adrift and out of options and was tired of fighting the tide. When he spoke again, there was very little emotion there, which was something Logan hadn't seen from him ever before, "Fine. If you don't want to help, I'll just stop bothering you then."

With that, he turned from the room and stepped out in silence, leaving Logan alone.

There was something about how he looked right before he left, confused and troubled, that seemed almost to speak to Logan in a way that began to make him a little uncomfortable. As he stood in the now noiseless room, he shook his head and looked at the ground, wondering what to do. His brain told him to leave it alone and let it pass, but he couldn't help but remember similar instances where he'd done the stupid thing and it had ended up working. But even if he did want to try to do something, what could he do? He had to stay at the school and help Storm and assuming Rogue was telling the truth about where she was headed, something which he doubted, there was no one at the school with powers strong enough to locate a single person anymore.

_Then you have to assume she isn't lying to you._ He concluded. But then who could catch up to her in time?

-----

"Hmm, I see your three and raise you five more."

"Man, Mr. Wagner, you got a full house or something?" A teenaged boy asked, glancing at his cards again as the other three students sitting in the circle –a girl and three more boys- did the same.

"Es ist possible." He answered with a small, concealing smile as he laid his cards back down casually, his tail flicking behind him.

The girl in the circle abruptly raised her head, sending her brown-red ponytail swishing in an arc that almost whipped the kid next to her, "Uh oh guys, a professor is coming..."

"Which one, Jenna?" The teenage boy asked, but hadn't yet bothered to be alarmed. He brushed back some of his black hair from his eyes and moved around the cards in his hand

"Hold on, I'm not that fast. I think," She closed her eyes for a second, "Its Professor Logan."

"Positive?"

"Of course I am, Tom."

"Then don't bother hiding the cards, he's not going to care." Tom told the others, picking his own back up, "It's my turn."

As Tom made his next move, calling Kurt's raise, Logan entered the room. Stepping up to the small group sitting in a circle on the floor, his eyes wandered from the players to the cards to the large stack of candy in the center. Amused, he folded his arms, not even bothering to look stern.

"Poker, huh?" He said, and continued curiously, with mock gravity, "Isn't that a little risky? You never know when one of the professors could just come on in and put and end to your little game."

"That's why we play with Jen." Tom said without glancing up as he nudged to boy next to remind him to make a call. Jen shot him a withering glare from over her cards.

"What, psychic or something?" Logan questioned her curiously, raising an eyebrow in some disbelief. Even after coming to believe the whole mutation 'magic' powers thing, there were still certain unexplainable issues where his mind drew the line.

"No, well, not really. I can just identify people by their...well, aura, I guess, but only if they're close. I'm not too good yet." She answered, not meeting anyone's eyes and sounding slightly embarrassed by the whole thing, "That's not why Tom keeps inviting me, though; he's just waiting for his chance to finally beat me."

Tom snorted, "Yeah, whatever."

"Neat." Logan said and then turned his head back down to look at Kurt, "Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Kurt glanced up and nodded, "Of course." Turning back to the circle he put down his cards and folded, much to the dismay of the others in the group.

Standing, he followed Logan out of the room as Jenna waved goodbye to both of them with a smile. They stopped right outside the door and Logan closed it behind them.

"Was ist es, Professor Logan?" Kurt asked as soon as Logan backed away from the door and glanced down both halls suspiciously, although it seemed to him that every direction was empty.

"I need to ask you a favor." He began, cautiously. If there was one thing he'd always hated doing, it was putting himself in debt to another person. It gave them too much control.

"Rogue left and I think Bobby's going to do something stupid unless he knows she's okay." Of course he'd used Bobby as an excuse, but it was sort of true in a way. The added benefit of giving his own mind some peace was just a lucky plus, "Do you think you could follow her?"

"_Follow_ her?" Kurt asked, a little suspicious, "Without her knowing?"

"Yes." Logan answered quickly. It did sound a little..._odd_ when said like that. He wasn't about to back off half way, nevertheless. He never did anything half way.

"Is she in danger?" Kurt questioned again, much to the annoyance of Logan, who had hoped, albeit foolishly, for his instant agreement.

"No, not yet. It's just more to calm the Iceman down, you know? The last thing we need is for another member to go AWOL on us." What was with people lately? Wasn't there a single person left with a 'yes' or 'no' answer? As if his nerves weren't fried enough already without all the uncertainty from everyone around him.

"Alright, I'll do it."

"You _will_?" Logan said doubtfully and then caught himself, "Okay, well, thanks. She said she was headed to the train station, and then to Canada. I'm not sure where."

"Do not worry, I will be able to find her." He promised him with a nod.

"I'm not." He argued, but not as firmly as he would have wished to. Kurt just nodded with a smile and headed towards the stairs.

Leaning against the wall, Logan sighed. Well, there was one problem taken care of for the time anyway. He couldn't just go back to his room now, though, he had to keep busy somehow and the last thing he wanted to do was start pacing up and down the halls like a crazed dog or something. Pausing, he opened back up the door to the room of students playing poker and went in.

"Ah, gambling. It's not every school that'll teach you how to do that."

"We knew before we came. Well, most of us anyway, Jen was trying to teach Kurt. Good thing he left, he was getting a little too good." Tom muttered, concentrating on his cards.

Jen looked up and asked, genuinely interested, "Do you know how to play?"

"Eh, I've played before." He said dismissively with a shrug.

"Yeah, right." Tom piped in sarcastically.

Logan's eyebrow raised and he sat down in the hole Kurt had left, "Don't believe me? Deal me in."

Maybe it was a little sad that he felt the need to keep up his reputation around a bunch of kids he'd just met, but heck, at least it gave him something to do. Other than think of course, which he'd had enough of for at least the rest of the week.


	3. Mr Doyle

'_Now boardingat platform seventeen, final destination Calgary, Alberta. Please have your ticketson hand.'_

Rogue grasped her own ticket tightly even though it was securely in the pocket of her coat. Standing up from the bench she had been waiting on, she tried to make her way over to the line of passengers waiting to board. It was a funny feeling to be surrounded by so many people and feel so completely out of place. They all had family or jobs or lives or something to go to, and what did she have? Nothing. No job, a family who was probably lucky to see their freak of a daughter leave, and no friends to speak of in the real world. Ever since she'd left the school, the doubts had started to sneak around her mind, and to make matters worse the line to get on the train was moving so slowly that it gave her plenty of time to turn around.

"Trying to catch a train on a Saturday morning is worse than having your teeth pulled, wouldn't you agree?" Spoke the man standing in line in front of her, turning around to chat amiably with her. He seemed nice enough- a suit, well trimmed hair, and a smile. If she had to guess his age, she'd say he was about as old as her dad, mid to upper fifties maybe. His hair was graying a bit, but traces of its original jet black color lingered under his black bowler hat. His eyes, though, they were the key feature of his face, the first part that Rogue's own eyes were drawn to. Something about the way the silver flecks on top of the blue glittered didn't fit the rest of him, but she couldn't quite decide on what it was. She didn't make it a habit of making conversation with complete strangers, but his presence put her at ease for some reason. And to be honest, Rogue had become somewhat lonely waiting by herself, so even meaningless chit-chat made her feel a little less sick to be leaving.

"Yeah. Why's it so slow?" She wondered out loud, wrinkling her forehead and eyeing the line curiously.

"They have posted extra security checks, although they've declined now. You should have seen it after that mutant attack on the station. It took hours to even get on a train for weeks following that because of all the procedures the government was going through with identifying other possible 'terrorist' mutants. It's paranoid, acting as if they were all out to get us." He replied, shaking his head, half in amusement and half in vexation, "But enough about politics. Where are you headed?"

Rogue listened as he talked and was actually impressed. For a human he seemed to be, for the most part anyway, unconvinced by all the media hype. Not that she'd met a whole slew of humans since she'd discovered she wasn't one or anything, but just the general feeling they gave off usually scared her a little. Just like when she'd met Bobby's family and she could almost feel the... hate wasn't the right word, but a sort of revulsion that something like them even existed. This guy, though, seemed sensible enough and seeing as she wasn't really a mutant anymore she guessed she had nothing to worry about.

"Calgary, I'm going all the way." She responded, a little more amicable than before, "What about you?"

"Fargo, North Dakota." He said, then paused thoughtfully and looked her over. She watched him uncomfortably and realized she hadn't really brought any means of self-defense, other than her hands of course. He wouldn't try anything in a crowded train station, though, she hoped. After a moment, he seemed to come back to reality with a shake of his head and a cool smile. Instead of making her comfortable now, though, it sent a little chill up her spine as she finally moved forward enough to hand her ticket to the man at the train entrance and board.

"I don't think I caught your name." The man commented lightly as he also stepped aboard the compartment.

"Jesse Sheppard." Rogue lied deftly and shrugged her bag back onto her shoulder, "And you?"

"Christian Doyle."

He stopped at one of the empty rows of seats and moved in, keeping his briefcase close at hand as he did and nodding politely to Rogue as she continued to make her way back, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Sheppard. Maybe we will bump into each other again before the train stops?"

"You too." She replied, purposely ignoring the end of his sentence as she tried to create some distance between them. Seven rows back she managed to find an empty seat next to an already dosing man and slid into it quickly. Now that she had a little room to breathe, she calmed down a little. It was ridiculous to be afraid of some guy she just met, especially one who had been so polite, but he'd spooked her a little.

'_It's just jitters._' She told herself. It hadn't been like this was the first time she was on her own; she could take care of herself. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and relaxed, letting the rumble of the train chugging forward and the soft chattering of people on board lull her to sleep.

It must have been an hour or so later when she woke up to her knee being brushed lightly aside by the man in the seat next to her. He excused himself and continued to slip past, making a beeline for the bathroom as soon as he had. Blinking, Rogue rolled her shoulders a little and yawned, pulling her knees up to her chest with the intention of going back to sleep as soon as the man returned. Closing her eyes, she could feel the vibrations of the train below her seat and then heard the approaching footsteps. Assuming it was the man coming to claim his seat back, she glanced up. Much to her displeasure she saw the somewhat familiar eyes of Mr. Doyle, now sitting at the vacated seat across the aisle from her own.

"Hello, Ms. Sheppard. I was wondering if you would be so kind as to continue our earlier conversation?" He began in the same polite tone that Rogue was beginning to find a bit grating to her nerves.

_Yeah, sure, why don't we just swap phone numbers while we're at it, creepo?_ was what she wanted to reply, but instead nodded with the hope that whoever had been sitting at that seat earlier would come back to get it, and soon.

"Very good." He began, and then rubbed his hands together contemplatively, "I am sorry if I bothered you earlier," He lowered his voice as he went on and made sure the people behind and in front of him were distracted, "But I know what you are. You're a mutant."

"What? I don't know what you think you're talking about, Mr. Doyle, but-" Rogue began to argue assertively, but he cut her off.

"Don't try to lie to me. You are not very good at it."

Rogue frowned, and then bit her lip, knowing she'd been discovered, but not quite ready to give up, "Look, maybe I was a-" she bit back her words as someone walked passed them, and then hissed, her voice much quieter, "_mutant_ for awhile, but I'm not anymore. Why does it matter anyways, do you have a problem with them or something?" She asked, suddenly defensive. If he wanted to have some sort of 'belief' battle, he'd picked a bad day. It was tough enough to leave her friends, she was not about to let someone spout off on their ill conceived misconceptions towards them.

"I certainly hope not." He muttered, and it was then she noticed why his eyes had attracted so much attention from her earlier. There was power behind them, a sort of vibrancy she'd only ever seen in the eyes of other mutants, especially the strong ones. It'd been in Magneto's eyes, Xavier's eyes, and the Phoenix's eyes. Now she knew why she'd been worried. That kind of ability, especially considering it was an _unknown_ ability, demanded respect and consideration.

"And as much as you want to convince yourself otherwise, Ms. _Sheppard_," He continued, still in his low voice, "You are not _cured_, you never will be. People of your level... _human_ treatments are not designed for medicating them."

"Why are you telling me this?" Rogue demanded quietly, feeling the train slowing. It may not have been Canada, but she didn't care anymore, she just wanted off. Now she knew she was scared and her first choice of response would be flight over fight. But if it came down to it, she was more than ready to defend herself, tooth and nail.

"Because you're in danger and I have a proposition for you." He said calmly, the business-like air back in his voice as he leaned closer across the aisle. Now that _she_ was the item being talked about so serenely, the conversation was anything but relaxed.

"You'll be the one in danger if you come anywhere near me." She shot back as the train slowed to a stop. Instantly, her hand reached for her bag and she dragged it out from under her seat and threw it on, ready to run.

"Then you don't believe me." He concluded quietly, "Pity, someone with your skills wasted in such a way." As he finished, Rogue was already up and moving towards the exit with Christian watching her from his leaning position in the seat, "I wish you luck, my dear. You are going to need it."

Shoving her way past the rest of the people trying to exit the train, she finally made it to the solid ground again. The Syracuse station was relatively crowded, all things considered, and she ducked into the nearest bathroom as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself. Pushing open the door to one of the stalls, she slipped in and locked it behind her, leaning against it and taking a deep breath. Now she wished more than ever that she hadn't left the school. At least there she knew people she could turn to for advice, maybe get some help from. Now what would she do?

_Rely on yourself, you're smart enough._

If what he'd said was true, if she really was in danger, then she needed a plan. And if there was one thing she'd gotten good at over the years, it was thinking on her feet. Whatever or whoever was out to get her would have a lot more on their hands than they expected.

-----

"Logan, what is _that_?"

Logan started in surprise at Storm's voice. It really wasn't fair of her to sneak up on him like that; she always walked so quietly. He took a puff on his cigar and turned around nonchalantly.

"What, you mean this?" He said pointing to the cigar, "It's a Cuban, got a problem with that?"

"Would you stop if I did?" She asked, crossing her arms. He could hear the hint of amusement in her voice. Hey, at least he was smoking outside for once. The temperature was on the cooler side, so most of the students were indoors and out of the way of his 'destructive influence'.

"Nope." He said from the corner of his mouth and then took another puff.

"I was talking about what's in your back pocket. The phone." She nodded in the direction she was indicating. He followed the aim of her attention to the corner of his back pocket out of which was poking the small black and blue corner of one of the school's communicators. Damn. It had been all the way in earlier, but of course it'd moved its way into sight right in time for Storm to see it. The last thing he wanted to do was get her all worked up into a frenzy over a problem he was confident he'd already handled.

"I'm waiting for a call." He replied vaguely, only making eye contact momentarily as he continued to smoke. What was with these people and their constant need to know everything? Questions made him antsy, especially when he already had other things on his mind.

"From _who_?" Storm inquired suspiciously, "And don't you dare try to lie to me, I will find out."

"Kurt." He answered, again only giving up as much information as he could to answer the question. He was probably driving her insane, but he hoped she would take the hint and back off. She didn't.

"Now why would Kurt need to call _you, _Logan. Couldn't he just talk to you in person, seeing as how you're both on the campus and everything?" She questioned, but it was more rhetorical than he would have liked it to be. He had to admit that she certainly was persistent and, in a way, he was almost glad for it. Sure, he didn't want to bother her or add another issue to her already full plate, but the longer that went by without a call from Kurt, the more he worried, and there was only so long he could hide _that_.

"Rogue's gone and-," He hesitated. Her gaze was making him feel like a kid who'd gone and broken a vase or something and tried to hide it by sweeping the pieces under the rug. Now he had to fess up, "And I sent Kurt to follow her, just to, you know, keep an eye out."

Storm was silent for a moment as she processed what Logan had said, and then she spoke slowly and carefully, "You should have told me."

There was a thud of guilt in Logan's throat and he coughed, putting out his cigar on the sleeve of his leather jacket. Of course she'd want to know, he reproved himself with resentment. It wasn't directed at her, but at himself. Storm was so much more capable than him at leading, and yet he'd risked two lives going off his own, helter-skelter judgment, just like he always did. Clenching his jaw, he shoved his hands into his pockets and said nothing.

"Look, its fine. Kurt can take care of things for now, I trust him." She looked down, and then back up at Logan with an anxious glance, as though something else were troubling her, "It's just I found something out this morning that...worries me. I don't know if it's true yet or not, but the more information that pours in-"

"What?"

"This." She said, holding the envelope in her hand out to him. He took it, keeping his eyes locked on her eyes until he'd moved the envelope close to him. Undoing the fastening, he pulled out the glossy pictures and the folded piece of paper within. His eyes scanned the photos quickly and in confusion as his brain tried to process exactly what he was seeing. As he unfolded the paper, something clicked and then just as quickly un-clicked in his mind.

"What the hell _is_ this?"


	4. Meetings

**Short A/N:** _Again, thank you for your great support, everyone, and I swear all will be explained... in time. It wouldn't be a very interesting story if I just spoon fed it to you, right? And sorry about the delay, I just finished school and have been working my butt off at home. I'll try to be more regular with updates in the future._

"What the hell is this?" Bobby asked, tilting the picture to another angle as if that was the key that would suddenly unlock whatever sort of secret it was hiding.

"As I told Logan before we found you three, I don't _know_ what it is." Storm explained for the umpteenth time, leaning forward onto the metal table in the meeting room. Behind her, projected a little in front of the silver and blue walls, was a larger, floating version of the image Bobby had just put on the table.

"It's a sentinel, right? Well, I mean, sort of...a little?" Bobby pressed, passing the photo over to Kitty who was sitting next to him at the table. She eyed it, looked back up at the screen, and nodded her agreement with Bobby.

"No, it's not." Logan answered, nodding to the main screen, "Storm, could you focus in on that part right there, the head?"

She picked up a small controller form the table and clicked a button. A little box appeared over the blurry head of the robot-like creature in the photograph and zoomed in, focusing a little as it got closer. Not much, but enough for Logan to point out exactly what he was talking about. Standing, he got closer, circling the bit of the machine, where the 'eyes' would be if it were human.

"See how it's made out of that blackish material there. They usually use stuff like that as sort of a safety shield on planes to protect the pilot."

"So?" Kitty asked, unsure of exactly what he was trying to get at.

"_So_ I've been up close and personal with these things and there definitely wasn't anyone up there driving it. And why should they, when the government has the technology to control them by remote signal?" Logan muttered, scratching his chin and then turning to Storm, "Can you zoom back out again?" The screen went back out to the full body version of the robot, "There's something else about it... I just can't figure it out. But it isn't a sentinel, whatever it is."

"It's too small, for one." Piotr remarked, shifting a little in his chair, "Look at the background. Those are standard issue crates, they probably aren't more than teen feet high a piece and he's less than one of them."

"I noticed that too," Storm agreed, taking a seat, "We don't have much information on the sentinels, but the ones we've seen so far have been bigger. It also seems to be attached to some sort of box at the bottom instead of having legs. I don't think it's supposed to move."

The room was silent as everyone stared at the picture. There was just something about it, something Logan couldn't place his finger on, that just seemed familiar. More so than the obvious comparison they'd been talking about. It was like he'd seen it somewhere before. Maybe before the surgery?

_Or you're just making connections out of nowhere. Just because you can't remember your past doesn't mean every little feeling is a clue._

Shaking his head, he turned to Bobby as he began to speak again.

"Well, whatever it is, who's is it? I mean, it can't be the governments. The president said-"

"The president says a lot of things. We've seen before just how little he actually knows about what happens around him." Storm interrupted, a hint of bitterness in her tone. Logan couldn't blame her. If it was the government, it would mean they'd been let down yet again, and just when they were starting to get a real foothold too. The room went silent again, as all the members mulled the possibility in their minds and Storm turned off the screen.

"Kitty, can you be ready to leave in half an hour?" She asked the startled girl before turning back to the rest of the group, "I have a contact in Chicago who might know more. He specializes in the current mutant-related projects the government tries to keep from the public. The rest of you," She began, her steel blue eyes resting on each of them in turn, "Are going to stay here and watch out for the school. The last thing we can handle right now is to have the rest of the team running around in a thousand different directions. Is that clear?" As she finished, her eyes specifically fell on Logan who stared right back at her, narrowing his own.

"Crystal." He responded unperturbedly, hiding his annoyance. Why had she singled him out? Yeah, so he could be a little head strong sometimes, so what? It didn't mean he was stupid.

"Super." She said with a smile and then stood, "Dismissed. Everyone make sure you have a communicator before you leave. In case anything comes up I want all of us to be able to contact everyone else. Oh, and Logan, I need to talk to you for a minute."

The communicators disappeared off the table one by one as the group dispersed, leaving the room empty save for Storm and Logan. He shifted uncomfortably from where he was standing and shoved his hands deeper in his pockets, unsure of what to expect.

"Any word from Kurt yet?" Storm asked in a lowered voice as the door closed behind Piotr. She sounded concerned. Not that it was anything new coming from her, but it did put him at ease knowing he wasn't the only one troubled. It made him feel more justified in his worrying.

"No, he hasn't called yet. But I didn't think he would until he found Rogue, unless," He paused, as a new possibility surfaced in his mind, "Unless she didn't get to Canada, which would explain why he can't find her." That thought put him very ill at ease. Rogue, at least the one he'd known, rarely lied. She'd withheld information at times, but if it was something like that...he was confident she would have told him the truth. Or so he assumed. As he continued to think about it, though, he really didn't know her much at all. He didn't know what her family was like, why she'd left them- hell, he didn't even know her favorite color. Even so, there was a gut feeling he got around her that she could be believed.

"I'm sure she's fine. He's probably just being thorough. Canada is a pretty big country, after all." Storm pointed out, trying to inflict a little humor in the last bit, but failing somewhat miserably.

"Yeah, but how many trains get there from New York, even when you consider connections?" He rebutted.

Storm sighed and shook her head, as if at a loss of what to do, "Look, it's only been a day-"

"And a half." Logan interjected, as if the extra half day was all the difference in the world.

"Fine, a day and a half. We need to give him more time and he'll find her, I know he will."

"What if he doesn't?"

She hesitated, stuck between a rock and a hard spot. He knew what she was deliberating over. If she told him to wait it out until Kurt called-however long that would take- he'd bolt in the next view days after she left, which he agreed was probably true. If she let him go too early, however, the school would be left without a guardian, something neither of them wanted. He knew it was callous to put her in that position to have to decide, but he didn't see any other way around it. The best case scenario was that she'd give him some free reign so he could at least convince himself her had some control in the situation. Worst case meant choosing loyalties. When it came down to it, if he had to choose between keeping the trust of the school or protecting his friend, he would choose the latter. He'd promised her that he'd watch out for her, after all, and considering everything that had happened recently, his pledge had become increasingly more important.

"Four days." She finally conceded, almost regretfully, "If Kurt doesn't call by Thursday, then you can do what you want." He nodded his agreement, slowly, knowing it was the best she could do but still unsatisfied with the answer. She headed for the door and then paused, "Whatever you do, Logan, be careful. The last thing these kids need right now is to loose someone else."

He nodded, she left, and he could tell she was equally discontented by their arrangement. It wasn't fair, but that was the way the world worked, all the same. Most of the time there weren't clear cut winners and losers, everyone had to made sacrifices sometimes. But he was delving too far into philosophy for his already crowded, drained mind to wrap around. So now all he had to do was last the next four days and hope they'd get a call, and sitting around and waiting was not his favorite option. He wondered if those kids were playing poker again...

-----

Rogue had always been good at staying out of the way. There was nothing particularly striking about her appearance, minus the white streaks in her hair, of course. Those, however, were not currently an issue as they were hidden by the semi-permanent brown hair dye she'd picked up at a nearby drug store and used at a gas station bathroom. Silly as it was, she sort of missed her trademark hair color, but she reminded herself that the dye wouldn't last forever and having all brown hair was better than being dead. As for the rest of her makeover, it had been relatively simple thanks to the baggy jean jacket and hooded sweatshirt she'd packed along with the rest of her clothing. In fact, her duffle bag had served as a relative chest of disguises with all the mismatched, ill-fitting pieces she'd packed along with her normal school clothes.

On the opposite end of the difficulty spectrum, though, had been finding a place to stay for the night. To her knowledge she didn't know anyone in Syracuse and she was very nearly flat broke, so a hotel was out of the option. There really weren't any other options that she could think of as she surveyed the area around the station from a map in the lobby. There was a hardware store about a block and a half away from the station, one of the bigger ones. That could be promising, she mused, and at least it was a plan. So it was there she'd headed, and waited until the store finally closed its doors for the night. As the last few employees trickled out and into their various cars and drove away for the night, Rogue slowly and carefully made her way forward, ducking into one of the unlocked storage sheds on display in front of the building and closing the door almost all the way behind her. It hadn't been much of a shelter, but it'd been better then sleeping on the streets. She still hadn't decided what to do about the next day, as the train too was now not a possibility, but when she settled down she realized just how exhausted she was. Tomorrow's worries could wait for tomorrow, she decided, and curled into a ball of clothes and duffle bag, dropping off into sleep.

It wasn't until the voices were almost right on top of her that she woke up. One groggy glance out the small crack of the door and she knew it still had to be nighttime or early morning, as light was bending its way in. Curious, she sat up and scooted closer to the entrance to listen, assuming it was just a couple of the employees coming to open up. For a moment she was worried they'd find her, but as she listened she began to get the impression they were deeply involved in whatever they were talking about.

"You have _all_ of the supplies, then? Because I remember a very similar conversation no less than two months ago where I received a similar promise, but no delivery." She caught the first voice, definitely male, slightly accented. Italian, maybe? It was hard to tell from what she could hear, but there was one thing that she could clearly make out; whoever voice number one belonged to, they were not in a forgiving mood.

"That was a fluke. We had all the supplies then too, but one of the cargo busses was intercepted. It was just lucky for you it wasn't another one of the busses; those were the most easily replaced materials." Hissed voice two, but it wasn't particularly menacing. Mostly it seemed nervy, although Rogue guessed male number two was trying to hide it.

"Lucky for me? I wouldn't be so sure that I would have been the one to suffer the consequences of a more unfortunate loss." He stated flatly, almost completely emotionless, and suddenly Rogue understood why the other man was so frightened. There was nothing there. He'd just been talking about what she guessed was a man's life as though he traded them by the dozens on a whim. She didn't even know him and she felt the hair on the nape of her neck prickle in fear with what he'd said.

"Now," He continued, "I need the disk."

Rogue leaned in closer, putting her eye as close to the whole as she dared when suddenly there was a noise behind her that sounded like a muffled pop in the atmosphere. Swinging around, she froze as she felt an arm grab her shoulder. There were two choices: fight the intruder or shut up and hope the men outside hadn't heard anything.

"Shh, Rogue, it'z me."

She would have recognized that heavily accented voice anywhere. Slumping slightly in relief and taking a few deep breaths, she turned her attention back to the talking outside to make sure they hadn't heard. Apparently, as they didn't seem to be making a beeline to the shed to kill them both, things were alright. With one problem out of the way, she turned to face the other, pressing the door closed slowly as she did so.

"Kurt?" She said in a low tone, "What're you doing here?"

"I don't think that ist a problem, at zhe moment." Was all he replied.

_Not a problem?_ Well, maybe it wasn't to him because he actually knew what the hell was going on. Rogue, on the other hand, was completely in the dark as to why he even would have bothered to-

"They put you up to this, didn't they?" She hissed with annoyance, suddenly seeing some pieces of the puzzle fit together. Peachy, they'd sent someone after her. Did they think she was twelve or something? She could take care of herself, what did she have to do to make people understand that? Sure, maybe she didn't have the experience they had, but big deal. That didn't make her incompetent.

"Look," She went on, a bit more collected this time, "You can just go back to the school and tell them-"

But before she could tell Kurt exactly what she was thinking, there was a huge crunching noise that split the air and shook the flimsy plastic walls of the storage building. Rogue flew face first into her bag and there was a thud next to her she guessed must have been Kurt.

Then there was nothing. Just silence.

"What was that?" Rogue muttered, suddenly a little grateful she wasn't alone anymore.

Kurt opened his mouth to speak just as the door opened. Trying to move was useless, whatever had opened the door was on them in a second. Some sort of cloth bag went over Rogue's head before she could even see what had attacked them and she was knocked to her stomach on the ground and bound before she got a chance to try to fight back. Her head was pounding and the rest of her body felt like it was on fire. She could still make out the sound of the movements around her, although it was becoming fuzzier the longer she tried to focus.

"Quick, get them out of here before Quicksilver's backup comes." One voice commanded and seemed to float from somewhere nearby.

"How do you know this is the right one? Doesn't even match the physical description-" Another one argued back.

"I know. People can't disguise what they are."

As more hands started to grab and pull her up again, she stopped struggling and blacked out, figuring she was as good as dead.


End file.
